


Escapism

by Kamariaki



Category: DanPlan
Genre: Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), More tags will be added as the story progresses, Unnamed Minor Characters - Freeform, apocalypse au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 12:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamariaki/pseuds/Kamariaki
Summary: He should've answered the phone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on the three debut chapters for two days now-- This is the first time I'm posting here, and honestly, I'm a bit nervous. I hope to stay focused on this work for a while instead of abandoning it like the rest of my ideas. Please have mercy, I'm simply trying my best and have no idea how to use this--

There wasn't really a universal name for the end of the world that really stuck. Though, in all honesty, why would there be? If someone were to say that there was, it would be a lie.

Some people would say that the end came slowly, with global warming and all leading up to it. Others insisted that it came fast, with the only reason being fate itself. Stephen liked to think the reason was somewhere between those two. Maybe both. He didn't like to think about it much.

The last memory Stephen had from Before wasn't a good one. That sunny day, that almost perfect day, he and Daniel had had quite the argument. He couldn't remember what it was about, but he is sure it was over something stupid. Obviously, Stephen didn't like to think about his last memory from Before that much either.

A lot happened after that.

Suddenly, his phone had been ringing, a call from none other than Daniel, but he didn't answer it. He was so stupid. He should've answered. 

_He should’ve answered._

A woman, his neighbor, slammed her hand onto his window repeatedly, demanding to be let in. Though shocked, the only thing Stephen did was smile at her and close the blinds, turning up the music coming from his Bluetooth speaker to drown out the furious woman. He didn’t care why she wanted to be let in. From what he knew, she was infected and showing no symptoms, and was probably trying to infect someone else.

In the next few moments, that was when the end of the world really began for him. A particularly loud bang from the woman outside caused him to drop his phone, cracking the screen, which led to him yelling out profanities while walking towards his door, about to open it and give the woman a piece of his mind, when what Stephen could only assume was an earthquake began. The whole room began to shake and a glass of water he had set on the coffee table fell off, shattering. A bookshelf full of his college textbooks came falling towards him, and he only narrowly avoided it. Then there was an extremely loud crash, followed by a bang, and then everything went black.

Stephen was tucked away under the rubble of what had once been his apartment building, pressed between his bookshelf and couch, soaked with the sweat of a fever coming on as he fumbled with his broken phone, attempting to call anyone from the team, hoarsely screaming for the help of anyone left breathing and not infected.

He wasn’t exactly sure what happened to the woman at his window, but he was nearly certain that she was dead somewhere nearby. The smell was absolutely horrid, though he also realized it could’ve been himself, too. In the end, he decided that it was definitely the dead woman, though. The infected rotted like hell from what he had heard, and well, it smelled a lot like rot.

Stephen could not remember who it was who finally came for him or how many days later it was. 

He had floated in and out of consciousness due to his fever, barely aware of the rumble of an engine and the overpowering scent of rust and human rot and blood and smoke. Faintly, he had known he was in the back of someone’s pickup truck but his knowledge stopped at that fact and it wouldn’t be until much later on, possibly a few months he would guess, until he would learn that a small group had pulled him out of the rubble, clutching onto the necklace Hosuh had gotten him years ago for his birthday that he didn’t remember having with him, and took him to a bunker in Toronto.

He had awoken to the feeling of soft, uncalloused hands on his arms and found himself before a young man missing half of his face working on disinfecting the littered cuts and scratches on his upper half. He had been afraid of him immediately. He had barely any hair and only one eye, his skin charred black and red and wet with blood underneath stained loose bandages that obviously needed changing, his lips split over his teeth with the remains of numerous blisters.

He had screamed.

Well, tried to scream. He tried to scream for Dan first, and then Hosuh and Annabelle and Jay and anyone else, but all that came from him was a series of strangled gasps and coughs. The man had pulled him, while struggling and crying, to his chest and stroked Stephen’s hair with his hands, hands whose skin was soft despite the rest of his looks, and whispered to him in French in a vain attempt to comfort him, which didn’t exactly work too well.

Stephen resisted him fiercely. He was terrified of the man and his melted face and struggled and kicked, trying to twist away from his grasp, but only managing to writhe weakly, his skin burning from the disinfectant that still was seeping into his wounds. He needed to be away from him. Away from his stinking, blood-soaked bandages. Away from his rough voice which was still whispering in French to him, but only reminded him of when Hosuh had said a few things in French that he had picked up on. Still, the man never let him go as he dissolved into tears, begging for Daniel or Hosuh. 

The man held him until he passed out once again.

He slept for several days, only waking from time to time to hear people screaming and crying. During this, he would curl in on himself, bringing his arms up weakly to his ears in an attempt to drown out the sound. Faintly, he had been aware of the man’s soft hands, which were touching him gently, comfortingly, the entire time, changing the damp rags that rested on his forehead and lightly dabbing more disinfectant over his cuts, slow and careful.

He had, at some point, asked the man for his name, but by then his lips were too blistered and cracked for him to speak and he had simply brushed his soft hands through his hair, lulling him back to sleep.

When he regained consciousness, his ghastly caretaker was dead in the cot beside him.

His face was already rotten and a pale yellow, and Stephen couldn’t figure out if the man had been infected or had died due to his untreated injuries. His body had been raided by the others for his clothes and boots, leaving the man completely naked and bruised. Again, Stephen cried, reaching for his now dead caretaker, and pleaded for him to wake up, grasping for his soft hands and shrieking when all he found were pussing blisters where his gentle fingers had once been.

A man two beds away from him shouted for him to be quiet, and unlike how he would’ve responded during Before, he complied, turning over and bringing his hands to his face as he trembled and sobbed.

A week later, someone came to take the man’s body, and a few hours after that, another man replaced him. Though this man was less kind, he didn’t have as many physical injuries. He ended up being infected, and nearly bit Stephen before he was ‘put down’.

A month passed and he could walk around again.

Stephen had gone through the entire shelter, but never could find Daniel or Hosuh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How much had happened in only eight months?

After the members who ran the shelter found out he could walk again, he was put straight to work. They needed more people to dispose of the infected. So they gave Stephen a gun, brought out a young infected boy, and told Stephen to shoot him. The boy had short brown hair in the same style as Daniel’s, and Stephen shuddered. The three members that were watching him were growing impatient, and with their continuous shouts, all of them yelling, _“Kill him! Kill the infected!”_ Finally, Stephen grabbed the boy’s bandaged arm, pulled him closer to him, and brought the gun to his head. The three cheered excitedly, watching intently. Stephen looked over at them, forced a smile, and shot the kid.

That night, Stephen didn’t sleep.

_He had smiled when he shot the kid who looked just like Daniel._

The next day, an infected woman threw herself at him, and Stephen screamed as she pinned him down, screaming for her to get off of him, for her to stop as she readied herself to bite into his neck to infect him. No one else tried to stop her, which led to Stephen taking matters into his own hands. He kicked the woman in the stomach and she stumbled backward off of him. This gave Stephen enough time to grab the ax by the door, and the next time the woman lunged at him, he plunged the ax into her head.

People had watched the fight with twisted excitement, and Stephen still couldn’t figure out if they had wanted him to make it out alive or not.

That night, as Stephen tried to sleep, someone stole his gun. Since there were no replacements, the members who ran the shelter just told him to make due with the ax. 

So he did.

Two days later, a man came in with a black leather jacket. Another day passed and the man’s body was being taken outside and Stephen had a leather jacket. That night, Stephen stashed his DanPlan hoodie in his pillowcase.

People came and went often. Some of them healthy, others infected or injured beyond repair.

Eventually, the three who ran the bunker stopped letting people in. Sometimes, if Stephen listened closely, he could hear someone banging on the metal door and their muffled cries to be let in. 

Resources were becoming scarce around the eight-month mark. Ration portions were getting smaller, and people who used to scavenge for resources refused to go outside. Every now and then, someone would be killed for their clothes and rations. 

That was when Stephen knew he needed to leave.

That morning, he woke to a man with messy hair standing on a chair, going on about something he didn’t bother to listen to. As Stephen pulled out the rations he had stored in his pillowcase, he watched in amusement as the man gathered quite a crowd. It was almost the norm at this point. If the man kept going on about whatever he was screaming about, the three in charge would deem him either insane or infected, and with that, he would be given to Stephen to take care of. 

What happened next took place faster than Stephen could react. Suddenly, the man was removing his jacket to reveal what Stephen could only assume was some sort of homemade explosive. The man pressed a button, and then there was a loud bang, a noise that immediately reminded Stephen of when his apartment building had collapsed around him. Stephen was on the ground, and people were screaming and rushing toward the exit, ignoring the man’s scattered body parts and the people who had been hit with the shrapnel of the explosion. Stephen pulled his hoodie out from his pillowcase, shoved it into the small backpack he had next to him, grabbed his ax and rushed towards the door.

The bunker was beginning to collapse around everyone, and many people were being trampled and shoved so others could get closer to the door. A man fell to the ground and dropped his pistol at Stephen’s feet. Stephen stepped on his hand when he tried to reach for the pistol and grabbed it for himself. When the man grabbed onto his ankle, Stephen turned around and shot him.

Then others started firing their guns, and Stephen lunged for the wall and got low to the floor in an attempt to avoid the gunfire. He slowly made his way to the door and just as he was about to get out, he heard the click of a gun behind him. He put his gun into his jacket pocket and slowly turned around to see one of the three who ran the bunker holding their gun to his head. Before they could shoot, he hefted the ax above his head and brought it down over them, immediately making them drop their gun and fall to the ground. He pulled the ax out of the body below him and ran out the door, never once looking back.

Stephen didn’t know the man’s name, the one who’d blown up the bunker, but in some twisted way, he found himself thankful for him choosing to do so today, while he was awake and far enough away from him that he wasn’t injured in the process. 

After all, Stephen just wanted out at this point. 

When he took his first breath of fresh air in nearly a year, he ended up choking on it. He coughed, nearly falling to the ground, the only thing supporting him being the bloodstained ax he still gripped onto ever so tightly. 

That’s when everything hit him, really. How many people he had killed, how he had just killed two more to escape from that goddamn bunker, but more importantly, how he was now completely alone.

People ran past him, running towards the city, some in small groups, others completely alone like him, but Stephen stayed still, staring out at the smoldering city. 

_How much had happened in only eight months?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting out all the prewritten chapters out at once


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you scared now?"  
> "Are you?"  
> "I asked you first."  
> "Of course I am."

Stephen was holed up in a semi-collapsed apartment building when he had his first human interaction with someone not from the bunker. 

A girl stumbled in, barely catching herself on the doorframe. “Sorry, I’m just looking for somewhere to stay, I’ll just--” She cuts herself off, looking him over once more. Stephen takes the time to look her over as well. The young woman’s hair was in two low pigtails, and the tips were dyed a pastel pink, which was slowly fading into a blonde color. Her dyed hair made Stephen wonder about his own. He’d have to look at himself in a mirror sometime soon. “Stephen?”

“Annabelle?” He asked, earning a nod. 

Next thing he knows, they’re both hugging and crying because _holy shit, I never thought I’d see anyone from the team again and here you are._

“You’re not infected, are you?” The question comes out before Stephen can stop it, and he looks away nervously, already regretting his words. He should be saying something along the lines of how happy he is to see her, or asking if she had heard any news about the infected, or what the fuck happened while he was in the bunker for eight months.

“No way,” Annabelle said, rolling her eyes. “It’s pretty easy to stay away from them. They’ve got this weird walk and look in their eyes. And the rotting smell,” She stuck her tongue out. “Disgusting.” And then she looked at him, as if asking him the same question. 

“I’m not either,” Stephen glanced over to his ax and shook his head. “You want a granola bar? It’s the last of my rations, but I’m not that hungry.”

Ann grinned and held out her hands eagerly. “Yes, please.”

Ann ate in silence for a while, looking Stephen over every now and then before scanning the room again. She noticed that Stephen seemed to do the same. “Where were you?” She asked. 

“I was about to ask you the same,” Stephen laughed. “I was in my apartment building. Some infected woman was banging on my window, then the earthquake hit.”

“I was out with Hosuh,” Ann paused, shaking her head. “We got separated somehow and I have no idea where he is now. I just hope he’s safe,” Ann’s eyes landed on the necklace Stephen had around his neck and she grinned. “Didn’t he get you that for your birthday a few years ago?”

“What happened while you were out?”

Ann pulled her phone out from her backpack and a half-empty water bottle. She turned on her phone flashlight and set it between them, putting the water bottle on top of it, illuminating the room in a soft white glow. “The infected got out at the hospital. People were rushing to their cars to get away, and some were running down the sidewalks like us, but then the earthquake happened, and one of the few things I can remember is that there was this part of a building that fell, and it landed on someone’s car near a gas station, and the thing exploded. I think I got knocked out after being shoved by someone because I don’t remember anything else, and I woke up a few hours later in a nearby building,” She paused, shaking her head. “What about you? It looks like that ax has been through a lot. Now it’s your turn to answer.”

“I was in my apartment building the whole time. First, I thought it was just a small earthquake, but then my bookshelf almost fell on top of me. I think the roof caved in a little bit after.”

“It’s kinda a surprise it held up that long. Your apartment kinda sucked, and there were other buildings nearby, too.”

He nodded. “I don’t really remember too much, save for hoping that the bookshelf didn’t break and let the building fall on top of me. I remember it was really hot, but I think that was because of my fever, and it smelled really bad,” He paused. “I was trying to call everyone, but didn’t something happen with the cell service and the planes and shit at that time? I heard about that from one of the dumbasses I worked with that that happened.”

“It did. A bunch of planes fell from the sky. I think Hosuh pointed one out to me at one point before we got separated.” 

Stephen frowned and looked over at Ann while pulling at the necklace around his neck. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“Who, Hosuh?”

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely,” Ann said confidently. “I’d have more faith in Hosuh if I were you, he probably made it further than me. If there’s anyone who can beat their way through this crap, it’s him, and Dan, too. We’ll probably run into them eventually, assuming that we stick together after tonight. There are bunkers and safe havens everywhere, it’s just a matter of finding them.”

“What if Dan is dead?” Stephen sighed, staring down at the dusty floor. “He was probably still nearby my place. Yeah, I think he might be dead.”

“Why?”

“I tried to call him before the cell service went out. It went out at five, and I was calling him at four.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s dead, Stephen.”

“He always answers his phone,” Stephen shook his head. “And I think I saw him when they were dragging me out.”

“You were probably hallucinating. You probably had one hell of a fever.”

“There was a smell.”

“How do you know what death smells like?” Ann laughed.

“My neighbor was infected. And I was in a bunker for eight months.”

“Ah, right. Well, your neighbor was nearby, too,” Ann paused and looked away from Stephen, out the shattered window and up towards the cloudy sky. “Were you scared?”

Stephen surprised himself when he couldn’t come up with an answer right away. “I don’t remember.”

A pause.

“Are you scared now?”

“Are you?”

“I asked you first.”

“Of course I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the pre-written chapters. I hope you stick with me as I write these!


End file.
